


Beyond Antares

by Voiid_Vagabond (Saturn_the_Almighty)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Beyond Antares, Fluff, Gen, I used the equivalent of Google Translate, Memory Loss, Mind melds, Nyota Uhura is a Genius, Platonic Relationships, Post Episode: s02e03 The Changeling, Uhura's Song - Freeform, Vulcan Language, Vulcan lyre, it's not that bad, memory recovery, mindscape, soft hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 12:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19767880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturn_the_Almighty/pseuds/Voiid_Vagabond
Summary: Uhura's having trouble remembering things. She needs her best friend.





	Beyond Antares

**Author's Note:**

> So 'The Changeling' did quite a job of glossing over Uhura's memory loss. SO I'M HERE TO REMEDY THAT. This is stuffed full of headcanons, platonic fluff and google translate level Vulcan.
> 
> I used Lingojam for the Vulcan...

Lt. Uhura is on bedrest until further notice. Spock doesn't want to be told that from Yeoman Artis, but that is the way it happens. After Nomad erased her knowledge, nurse Chapel and a handful of other officers had been filing in and out of sickbay and teaching her what she used to know.

Spock has yet to visit her. Simply the thought of her mind, brilliant and sharp, now a dull gray and a shadow of what it used to be-- he could feel his chest constrict at the thought of it. Uhura is one of the smartest people he knows. She had been fast-tracked in the Academy, top of her class.

He admires her.

Spock can't help but overhear Chekov talking to Sulu when he thinks no one is listening.

"I think she will not get better. Is sad, yes, but you cannot teach genius."

Spock's shoulders slump where he stands at his station. _You cannot teach genius._ It's true. Even if Uhura's reeducation is 'successful' she will never be the same.

* * *

"Hello, Nyota," Spock says as he enters sickbay. Uhura looks up at him, recognition taking a split second to show in her gaze. She smiles, so familiar, and yet-- _not quite right._ Spock forces himself to start breathing again.

Bones glances up at him, something like pity in his eyes. Spock stares right back. Bones caves first, flicking his eyes away and pressing a stack of brightly colored memory chips into Uhura's hand.

"Here's some more neurology papers, Uhura," he mumbles. As he leaves the room, he pats Spock's shoulder briefly. Spock does not resent the contact.

"How are you, Nyota?" Spock asks. Uhura shrugs, tapping the memory chips against each other.

"As good as I can be," she says. **_Melancholy,_ ** he sees. He doesn't need touch-telepathy for that.

"I'm not stupid, I know I'm missing things. I know I can't learn those things again. I feel like sometimes-- ah, no it's silly…" Uhura waves her hand dismissively.

Spock comes to sit on the edge of her bed. 

"What have they taught you?" He wonders. Uhura shrugs. She sets the memory chips down on the bedside table and pushes the computer screen away.

"Regular school curriculum. Normal things. I'm due to start Starfleet Academy classes tomorrow," she says. There is that smile again. Placating. Spock knows she is trying to assure him that everything is all right. But it isn't.

"Nyota, is there anything you want me to teach you?" He askes, smoothing out the bedspread beside his legs.

"Is there anything I learned from you before?" She shoots back. This time her smile is different, more genuine. Spock almost mirrors it.

"Do you recall how to play the Vulcan lyre?"

Uhura freezes. Her eyes go wide, her breath catches. Spock moves closer, nervous that something might be terribly wrong. Uhura reaches up and rubs at the back of her head, wincing.

"Ouch," she mumbles.

Spock reaches up and feels for blood, for any injury.

"Are you alright? What's wrong?" He says, his eyebrows pulled together. Uhura gently guides his hand away.

"Nothing, just a little irritation. I get them every now and then."

Spock doesn't believe that it's 'nothing' but he doesn't want to pry. Uhura glances up at him, choosing to ignore the blatant look of concern he's wearing.

"No, I don't remember how to play the Vulcan lyre. Will you teach me?" She asks with a smile. That does the trick and Spock immediately forgets about what happened. He retrieves his lyre from his quarters and settles down for a long lesson.

* * *

The days pass and Spock quickly gains a monopoly on Uhura's time. He finds her a stack of research papers and classical literature on Vulcans and their culture. She asks for mental health papers and the most modern neurology hypotheses, mostly relating to memory. Spock does her the honor of not asking why.

He is fairly certain he knows.

Spock wants to teach Uhura to sing again, something that hurts to know she forgot.

She has picked up the lyre again with surprising swiftness and is slowly but surely learning Vulcan again, with his close guidance. As he enters her quarters he sees her sitting cross-legged on her bed plucking at the strings. Spock isn't the only one who was relieved when she was discharged from sickbay. Bones seemed like he was tired of hearing them all day.

Spock offers her a nod by way of greeting and she returns it with a brilliant smile. Her smiles are more genuine these days, Spock has noticed. It gives him… hope.

"Are you finally going to teach me to sing today, Spock?" She asks, punctuating her question with an ethereal chord on the lyre.

Spock raises an eyebrow. He holds out his hand and she passes him the lyre.

Across the room, Spock settles into a plush chair and props up the lyre. He clears his throat, glancing up at Uhura, who's staring at him with anticipation.

Spock sings, a song that hasn't left him alone since that day.

_The skies are green and glowing_

_Where my heart is_

_Where my heart is_

_Where the scented lunar flower is growing_

_Somewhere beyond the stars_

_Beyond Antares_

_I'll be back, though it takes forever_

_Forever is just a day_

_Forever is just another journey_

_Tomorrow a stop along the way_

_Then let the years go fading_

_Where my heart is_

_Where my heart is_

_Where my love eternal is waiting_

_Somewhere beyond the stars_

_Beyond Antares_

Uhura's mouth hangs open, tears running down her cheeks. She crawls to the end of the bed and hops off.

Spock sets aside the lyre as Uhura draws closer. She stops in front of him, her eyes still watering.

"I sang that," she breathes. "I don't remember it, but-- but I know I sang it."

Spock starts to wonder if something is wrong with his lungs. He can't seem to get enough air in.

"Nyota--" he starts, moving to stand up.

_"Nartaya?"_ Uhura asks, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Spock nods, too overwhelmed to wonder how-- or why-- she remembers the Vulcan word for hug.

She practically falls on him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.

_fear fear_ **_fear_ **

Spock shuts his eyes tight, trying to put up walls, trying to shield himself from Uhura's emotions.

She is scared. She is lost. Without her memories, without her knowledge she thinks she is nothing.

She will never be who she used to.

Spock has to make sure she never feels this way again. Whatever he can do, he will do it and more.

* * *

Spock finds Uhura reading psychology papers the next time he enters her quarters.

She's frowning at the screen, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Spock discreetly hides the books he's holding behind his back. He doesn't want to interrupt her.

"Come and sit, Spock, I want to talk to you," Uhura says suddenly, patting the bed next to her. Her eyes never leave the screen.

Spock takes his time walking over to the bed. Uhura makes an inpatient movement with her hands.

"It's important, Spock, hurry it up," she says, agitated.

"Alright. I've been doing my own studying," Uhura says quickly when Spock finally sits down. He tucks his legs under him and straightens his back.

"I've been thinking about… about memory loss. And reading about it. I--" she turns, looks at Spock with pleading eyes.

"I haven't been completely honest with you."

Uhura sighs. "A lot of the papers and research I've read say that memories can't really be erased. That they're only just being hidden from the rest of the brain."

Spock leans closer, suddenly much more interested.

"And I kept thinking about that. Memory loss never works like it does in movies. What if that means that I can get it all back?" Uhura turns to Spock, her hands eagerly patting the bed.

"There's this feeling, almost an itch at the back of my skull. And it's _so familiar_ , but I don't know why. It's something just out of reach. I want it so bad. I want to know what it is. Maybe that's how I--"

Spock scoots forward, so close that his knees are pressed against Uhura's.

"Do you wish to explore your mind?" He asks. The way Uhura is describing things, it sounds awfully familiar to him, too. With a mind-meld, maybe he can help her.

"I can accompany you into your subconscious. We may search for answers within your sleeping mind," he says.

Uhura gazes up at him. "You'd do that?" She asks in disbelief.

"For you, Nyota, anything," Spock replies. He knows his use of hyperbole could be misleading but in this moment he truly feels it. He will do _anything_ to help her.

"Thank you, Spock. You don't know how much this means to me." Uhura reaches out and tentatively places a hand on Spock's shoulder.

She had been reserved about their contact ever since she had hugged him. Spock doesn't understand it. He doesn't think he's done anything to indicate he wished to lessen their contact. But he won't press the issue.

Spock holds her gently by the shoulders and pushes, guiding her onto the bed. He leans over, the lights in her quarters casting backlight around his head.

"I am going to attempt a mind-meld with you. Do not be afraid."

Uhura smirks. "I'm never afraid with you, Spock," she assures him. "Go ahead."

Spock lets his slender fingers find her psy-points easily. He closes his eyes, concentrating. Uhura slides her eyes shut after him, trying to clear her mind.

_"T'nash-veh kashek tor ish-veh kashek. T'nash-veh nahp tor ish-veh nahp,"_ Spock mutters, adjusting his fingers.

The itch at the back of Uhura's turns electric. There is something fluttering at the edges of her mind, an almost lavender color. Or rather-- it isn't so much the color as the _feeling_ of the color.

She can feel Spock here with her, in the not-lavender space. It stretches on forever. She can feel nothing else except the all-consuming color.

_"Nyota. We are one. We are melded."_

_"We are one. Etek nam-tor veh,"_ Uhura responds.

In her mind, Uhura hears a shuffling, like footsteps in an echoey room. And suddenly she is _there._ In the infinite space. She looks down, expecting to see her boots, the red of her uniform. Instead, she's barefoot, dressed in a flowing black dress. It's soft and light and it makes her want to twirl around in it.

She looks up from the fluttering skirts and starts backwards. All around her, rising out of the lavender like clouds, are buildings. Small, modeled after Earth architecture in the late 1940s style. There are Corinthian columns holding up the roofs.

Uhura whirls around. They're everywhere, like she's landed in a small town. She's reminded of a sunset, the colors of everything. All bright pinks and creamy orange and purples.

She glances about her. No one else. Nothing else but the odd and familiar buildings.

Then, without warning, Spock is there.

The electric feeling jumps, falters for a second. He looks down at her.

Spock looks different in her mind. Uhura knows it isn't her doing. She sees him as he is. But in here, in the safety of her mind he looks at ease. He wears similar clothes, formless and flowing, a black like the deep emptiness of space.

Spock clasps his hands behind his back and looks around. He frowns, turning in circles like he's looking for something.

"This is strange," he admits quietly.

"Mindscapes are rarely so empty. The ancient facades and columns, a structure unique to your mind. Yet there are no mementos, no articles of meaning. Trinkets, items of emotional value…" Spock stops himself from rambling. He could go on, but Uhura looks like she might faint.

Uhura feels a coldness down her spine. Is something wrong with her? What does he mean, empty? Will she really be able to get back her memories? If not, is **_this_ ** what she is? This emptiness? Just the skeleton of a mind?

Spock shifts, the fabric following. He turns back to her, his frown deepening.

"No. Nyota, this is not you. _Du nam-tor weht do ra du fai-tor."_

Uhura nodded shakily. He's right. She is more than the sum of her knowledge.

"But you can help me find my memory?" She asks, apprehensive and hopeful all together.

Spock lets out a breath, holding out his hands in the empty space that feels stuffed full of _nothing._

"I will try," he says.

Uhura opens her mouth to speak but something catches her eye.

It's far off, almost invisible, but it's _there._ She knows it is. And what's odd is that it seems like it's always been right there. And she wonders how she missed it.

Uhura points at it, notices Spock's eyes are closed, and instead speaks up.

"Spock, there's something over there. It's like a-- a light. Like a flashlight but it's all soft."

She takes a step towards the light.

"It's very familiar. There's something so dear about it. It's a blue-- a bluey-green. I know it's important. Spock, come with me."

Uhura starts forward, not waiting for Spock to follow.

She almost stops dead when a hand tugs on her long skirt. Instead, she glances back to see Spock holding on, the fabric pinched between two slender fingers.

"What are you doing that for, Spock?" Uhura asks.

Spock ducks his head, staring down at his feet. Uhura notices the tips of his ears go green.

"I do not wish to be separated from you, Nyota. I fear I would get lost in your mind," he admits.

Uhura laughs, light and soft.

"Well, I can't think of someone I'd rather have stuck in my head. At least you'll sing to me," she says.

They keep walking, leaving the buildings behind. Uhura keeps the light in front of her, never lets it leave her sight. As they get closer, she can tell that there's something lying on the ground.

"That's what the light is coming from. Whatever's there," she says with excitement.

Spock lets go of Uhura's dress as she runs towards the object.

"Nyota, be careful!" He calls after her, following close behind.

She stops so abruptly that Spock almost runs right into her. She stares down at the object, her head cocked to the side. Lying on the ground, indeed emanating the bluish-green light, is a Vulcan lyre.

_Spock's_ Vulcan lyre.

He squints at it, suspicious.

"Nyota, why is--" he starts, before the reason catches up to him.

_Memory._

Uhura steps forward, her hand outstretched, and crouches in front of the lyre. Her delicate fingers brush against the sculpted wooden surface, the strings bend and snap under her hand, perfectly tuned, and the crisp sound flows off it like pure emotion.

Uhura stands, taking the lyre with her and bracing it on her hip. She ghosts her fingers over the strings, closes her eyes like she's trying to remember. The itch at the back of her skull sends a shiver down her spine.

Far off, back in the town made of sunset clouds, the Vulcan lyre sits, leaning against a low wall.

Uhura smiles, knowing that something is right now, that it's in its place. She starts to sway, plucking at the strings of the lyre like she grew up playing it.

Spock watches her fondly, the ghost of a smile on his lips. She's playing now like she used to. Like she did before Nomad.

If this-- if she can do this, he thinks, then she might be able to get everything else back.

Uhura steps lightly in a kind of dance, circling Spock with grace and ease.

_The skies are green and glowing_

She starts. Spock feels his heart pick up. He had missed hearing her sing her song. She sings it now, not as someone who has heard it from another, but straight from the heart.

_Where my heart is_

_Where my heart is_

_Where the scented lunar flower is growing_

_Somewhere beyond the stars_

_Beyond Antares_

_I'll be back, though it takes forever_

_Forever is just a day_

_Forever is just another journey_

_"Du mavau k' wuh takov t' wuh salan, Nyota,"_ Spock says to her. She smirks, and looks down at the lyre, her fingers floating over the strings.

Her voice carries a kind of hopefulness in a time of hopelessness. It gives Spock an odd feeling, but not unpleasant or unwanted.

_Tomorrow a stop along the way_

_Then let the years go fading_

Uhura dances away from him, her voice carrying on a breeze. It ruffles the fabric of his robes, whispers to him something secret.

* * *

Spock wakes up in Uhura's bed. He does not recall falling asleep. It may have happened when he broke the mind-meld. It takes a lot of energy out of him. He cracks his eyes open slightly, seeing the familiar shimmering red-orange of her bed, her hair splayed out on the pillow.

Uhura isn't asleep. She might have been before, but now she's watching him with her deep brown eyes.

Spock raises an eyebrow at her and she returns it with a playful smile.

_"Nemaiyo,"_ she whispers. Spock nods to her.

She reaches up and ruffles his impeccable bangs, relishing in the way he wrinkles his nose.

"I think, with your help, I really can get all my memories back."

She smiles at him and this time it is _real._ It's genuine. It's the smile he remembers.

Spock lets out a breath, taking great pride in him being the one to bring back her smile.

Uhura props herself up on her elbows and gazes up at the ceiling.

"You will help me, right?" She wonders.

Spock sit up, places his hands on her shoulders. _As if there is any doubt._

**Author's Note:**

> Nartaya: Hug
> 
> T'nash-veh kashek tor ish-veh kashek. T'nash-veh nahp tor ish-veh nahp: My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts.
> 
> Etek nam-tor veh: We are one.
> 
> Du nam-tor weht do ra du fai-tor: You are more than what you know.
> 
> Du mavau k' wuh takov t' wuh salan: You play with the grace of the wind.
> 
> Nemaiyo: Thank you.


End file.
